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I now contemplate and muse,

As wise Hamlet once did too,

On what lies beyond that mortal coil whose

Questionable nature is nothing new.

 

Will I find myself drifting,

A Hollow Man of Eliot’s dreams?

Or rather find myself shifting

Into life anew, not quite as it seems?

 

I wonder will there be angels shining bright,

Or valkyries to guide my way?

But I think not, it seems not quite right,

Not very likely, too dusty and passé.

 

Maybe Nirvana among the clouds,

Or rolling Elysium on silver shores?

These, methinks, are just painted shrouds

And thoughts that idle minds alone adore.

 

The shimmering visions of the hereafter

Are all to vivid to be within my belief.

No lights for me, no forests filled with laughter,

And the Summerland avoided would be a relief.

 

Rather, I think darkness will come,

But not in a way we comprehend.

Instead, shapeless voids to which we succumb;

A nothingness where eternity we’ll spend.

 

But not so melancholic,

This blackness without form,

Nor would it be a vitriolic

State within a maddening storm.

 

Instead, gods we would be in this place,

Able to give it shape and life.

A mansion of sorts in which to encase

A beautiful land free of pain and strife.

 

A place to make my own,

That would please me most,

As I have no need for afterlife overblown,

And less want still of a Heavenly Host.

 

Just let me be in my thereafter,

I’ve dealt with company all my days,

I want only an evening field without rafters,

And fading Sun’s reflections off the softest haze.

 

 

P.S. Sorry for all the “Poetry Time” posts recently. I made the mistake of replaying a little game called Skyrim and now I’m sinking most of my day into that. So, once this is out of my system, I should be able to get back to posting some more full content junk.

P.P.S. I might post a Tomb Raider review soon since I just finished that again.

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